The Fourth Age
by Blaxconiox
Summary: The world of men has descended into chaos after the death of High King Aragorn's death, due to the greed and ambition of men. There are only the free people's of Middle-Earth, alongside the Forgotten Kingdoms, who can save the world of men.


**Authors Note**

**Okay. I have NEVER written a book before, apart from in English lessons, so I am not sure about how this will turn out **

**This is all inspired from J.R.R Tolkien's world of Middle-Earth ('The Lord of the Rings' Trilogy and 'The Hobbit') so, as it turns out, I'm a big fan of both the books and the Films (and am looking forward to watching the Hobbit!).**

**So finally, I would like to say a big thank you to all who read this book (in its progress too!) and please can you post reviews to tell me how it is, and I am always open to constructive criticism, So please! **

**Enjoy!**

**Book 1**

**Prologue**

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."

― J.R.R. Tolkien, _The Fellowship of the Ring_

When Urist noticed that they were gaining on him, he jumped of the side of the road into the wilderness. And not too soon too. His pursuers, who had been following him from the Mountainhomes, were dressed all in steel, their breastplates and shields emblazoned with the shield of the house which is known to all, yet known to none. He recognised it, yet did not know it.

Their helmets had wings attached to either side of their helmets, ones in the shape of a cylinder, yet pointed in front of the face, with breathing holes dotted around the nasal area and around where their lips were covered. The slits in their helmets designed for sight, yet they constricted it so they were all but blinded. The destriers – the horses used by the knights of men – were large beasts, muscled with training, huge from birth, and fed to appreciate. The knight's wooden lances ended in a point, with small, bright blue and white banners attached just before, all with a tree, white, surrounded by a light blue, the colours of the prince. These were men, charged with defending their homes, the kingdom and the king. They were of the knights of Minas Tirith, yet they had succumbed to greed as all the men had in the prosperity of the fourth-era.

Middle-Earth had never been free of evil, but it was always the kingdoms of men who had stood against it, with allies of all the good races; Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit, Eagle, Ent, they all stood together when the time came. However, since the king of Gondor, Aragon, had died, all the kingdoms fell. One by one, they succumbed to greed, the promise of gold, glory and fame. First was the realm of Gondor, greed possessed the new high-king and his kingdom fell from grace alongside him. Without Gondor obeying the laws of middle earth, an evil entered the hearts of men. When Faramir, husband to the king of Rohan's niece arrived at the throne of Rohan with his wife, he gave the land prosperity it had never known. Unfortunately, he trusted too many in this time, and he died by the hand of an assassin, sent from Gondor, as he would not bend the knee to Granon, the new high-king of Gondor. The kingdom of Rohan was then destroyed, every house burned, every one of the armies of were slaughtered against the overwhelming power of Gondor. The populace murdered, including the women and children, and the livestock sent to the slaughterhouses. Rohan was set alight, its lands and fields, beginning to bear fruit as the summer began, were burned and its keeps and building, villages and towns were all torched. The only building left standing was the fortress of Helms Deep. It's stone structure not able to catch fire; it was blackened with soot, and occupied by the armies of Gondor.

Isengard, which had not been destroyed after the great-war, was made as an outpost of Gondor, its lands around, all occupied by Gondor civilians, was not necessary to conquer, but the bloodthirsty knights of Gondor did not let this thriving community survive. A threat, they said it was, but no longer; it lay in ruins, the surroundings left to the wild beasts of Middle-Earth.

The dwarf, his chainmail clinking over his deep, dark blue tunic, his helmet, of the finest mithril, covering all but his eyes, and his Great-Axe, Mithunduriil, a strong, sturdy and resilient weapon, bouncing against his back as he ran for cover, attempted with all his might to put away his fear. There were 20-or-so knights, all in the same armour, in this patrol. He had come across many, but they were in groups of fives, so he had had no trouble in fighting them. Unfortunately, one knight had escaped from the last patrol, and 4 or so patrols had banded up and were seeking him. He had long left his pony behind, to be captured and murdered by this group, his resentment to men building, as he remembered all his lost companions, taken by surprise in an ambush. He forced himself to forget – for the moment. Urist put on some speed, seeing a perfect hiding spot not too far ahead, which was small enough to conceal him, large enough for him to fit into, and not large enough for a man to notice.

He skidded, and bundled over, crawling to the bundle of roots which would help hide him. The knights, noticing his footprints leading off into the woodlands and off the path, stopped their horses in perfect unison. The lead horse snorted, a cloud of steam rising from its nostrils. One swished its tail. The lead knight turned his head, seeking the dwarf in the forest. His horse gave a whiny as he dug his heels into its sides, and galloped off along the path along with the rest of the knights.


End file.
